


Winter Demons

by asemblanceoflove, DementedPixie



Series: Demented Pixie's Pros Fic [29]
Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: Fastnacht, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22653160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asemblanceoflove/pseuds/asemblanceoflove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie
Summary: Bodie and Doyle go to Freiburg and find more than just sausage and cheese.PLEASE DO NOT RE-POST THIS STORY ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM.
Relationships: William Bodie/Ray Doyle
Series: Demented Pixie's Pros Fic [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264832
Kudos: 12





	Winter Demons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asemblanceoflove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asemblanceoflove/gifts).



> My name is Demented Pixie and I’m a Pros fan, but that hasn’t always been my name. If you knew me as In Love With Both and you’re a friend, then you’ll already know why I left the fandom some years back. But, hey, a girl can change her mind, and I have therefore decided to re-share my Professionals fanfiction on this amazing Archive – no changes, no improvements, no alterations. I’ll be posting them just as they were written. No comments, no trolls, and no betas. Just me and my stories. I’m sharing them so that they can take their place in the archive, but I’m also sharing them for the Pros generation, for those future generations yet to discover Bodie and Doyle, and for Sandra, who has never ceased waving pompoms for all Pros fanfiction writers.
> 
> The following story was written jointly by me and Asemblanceoflove in 2010.

Winter Demons  
By Bodie4Me and ILWB  
Set in February 1978 in Freiburg, South Germany

Ray Doyle wasn’t a happy man.

Squeezed between the bulk of his partner and a tiny round window, he slowly started to sweat. The engines of the Boeing 737 had rumbled into life more than ten minutes ago, but they still weren’t moving. Glancing out of the window he took in part of a flimsy looking wing, an expanse of wet concrete and the shiny glass facades of Heathrow airport.

Bodie had generously insisted on him taking the window seat because “You’ve got to see London from above, mate, it’s breathtaking! The Thames, Buckingham Palace, the football grounds, you’ll love it!”

Doyle didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would much, much rather sit next to the aisle where you could just jump up and run for the nearest exit when necessary. Though once they were airborne even that wouldn’t be an option anymore, he thought, glumly.

He had fastened his seat-belt the second his bum had touched the seat, which had earned him a smirk and a raised eyebrow from his disgustingly relaxed partner.

Bodie had neatly draped the two black straps over his parted thighs and beamed at the approaching stewardess.

“So sorry love, do you think you could you give me a hand? The clasp just doesn’t seem to work.”

The shapely brunette took a look at Bodie’s lap and then at his smiling face. “Of course, Sir.” she purred leaning down, “Just let me…”

She was obviously very concerned about her passenger’s safety. It took her a long time to buckle him in and she managed to softly brush her fingertips over both his well muscled thighs and his belly in the process.

“Is it too tight?” she breathed at last, her hand still resting lightly on his abdomen.

The grin Bodie bestowed on her was dazzling. “No love…not yet.” He winked at her. “Thank you so much.”

Silently groaning Doyle closed his eyes. Once the smiling, slightly flushed stewardess had floated on, he shook his head.

“Shameless. You’re bloody shameless. Like a tomcat on heat.”

“Tomcat?” Bodie snorted, “That’s surely more your department, mate.”

“At least I’m a bit more…”

The word “subtle” died on his lips as the plane suddenly started to roll. Looking worriedly out of the small window again he instinctively gripped the arms of his seat as the BA machine gathered speed.

“Not too keen on flying, are we, DC Doyle?” his partner observed nudging his shoulder.

He shot him a withering look. “Just shut it, will you!”

“Awww sunshine, want me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push it, Bodie!” Ray growled and then squeezed his eyes shut as the wheels left the ground and they were pressed back into their seats.

“Yeah…take off!” Bodie cheered right into his ear, and he would gladly have thumped him had he been able to move a muscle. Instead he sat rigid and white knuckled, almost forgetting to breathe as the plane rapidly rose into the air.

“Look, mate! Look down, Ray! It’s beautiful. Open your eyes for God’s sake!”

“Then get the fuck off me, you big berk!” Ray hissed giving his excited partner an annoyed push before he reluctantly peered at London from above. He regretted it instantly. His stomach gave a sickening lurch and he snapped his eyes closed again with a groan.

“You didn’t even look properly!” Bodie complained. “I go and let you have the window seat and you don’t even look properly!”

His pale faced companion took a deep, slightly shuddering breath. “Bodie…I swear to God…one more word and I’ll throw up on you, and don’t think I’m joking.”

“Jesus Doyle, you could have told me you have a full blown phobia.”

Angry green eyes snapped open again. “Just because some of us aren’t as keen as you SAS nutters on being stuck inside a metal box seven miles up in the air, doesn’t mean they have a phobia. Stop behaving like a bloody tourist! In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly flying to the Maldives for a holiday. We’re flying to bloody Germany. To the fucking Black Forest. In the middle of winter!”

“And you hate it,” Bodie observed.

“You bet I hate it, Einstein! I mean, why us, Bodie? Why Germany? Is the Cow off his rocker? Sending us on this stupid mission to bring back that Ashford bloke. There must have been a better way. Why not let the Krauts turn him over? We were supposed to have a whole week off, if you happen to remember. A well deserved and very needed week off.”

Bodie put a soothing hand on his arm. “I know Ray, but you know how it is. The old man never does things the normal way, and he wants to handle things himself. Ashford is one of our own, at least he was for a while. I know Germany a little, been there quite a few times, and we’re Cowley’s best team. He wants us to clean his doorstep, we go and get our brooms.”

“Yeah, but this time the doorstep is in a strange city in the South of Germany. And you love it.”

Bodie nodded. “Oh God yes!” his partner exclaimed, looking like a little boy on Christmas morning, “To get out of the country and the old man having to pay for it? What could be better than that? And Germany isn’t half bad, Doyle. I bet you’ll like it. God, the food, the birds!”

Ray couldn’t help breaking into a wide grin. “Glad to hear you’ve got your priorities right, mate.”

Bodie grinned back at him. “Glad to see you’re still able to smile, sunshine.”

They locked eyes for a moment. “Sorry, eh?” Doyle said.

“That’s ok. You can buy me a beer once we’re there. God, I’m dying for a German beer.

The rest of the flight, which only took about 70 minutes, wasn’t too bad. Bodie munched his way through two bags of peanuts, skimmed through the newspaper he had found in his seat pocket and flirted outrageously with every stewardess that passed down the aisle.

Doyle concentrated very hard on not looking at the eerie expanse of white cloud outside the window and not hearing the disconcerting announcements about the height and speed of their plane.

Approaching Basel airport they put their watches forward an hour.

The landing was almost as bad as the take off. Swearing under his breath, Doyle desperately waited for the noise and shaking to stop and for the wheels to finally touch the ground again.

He couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.

At the top of the stairs they were hit by incredibly cold, incredibly fresh air and Ray gave a loud sigh.

“Oh God…Terra firma!”

“If you throw yourself down to kiss the ground, I’ll thump you.” Bodie said, in a pleased voice.

Doyle shook his head at him. “Do I look like the Pope?”

“Wouldn’t know, mate, haven’t seen him in jeans yet.”

With their bags slung over their shoulders they slowly made their way into the terminal building.

Compared to Heathrow, Basel was tiny and looked almost like a toy airport. The snow was very real though. There was a thick, heavy coating everywhere, but amazingly enough all the roads and paths had been efficiently cleared and everything seemed to be still functioning perfectly. It was obviously very different from England.

********

“Well how did we end up in Switzerland then?” said Doyle, hand on one hip as he leaned against the doorway.

“I don’t know, do I?”

“You’re supposed to be the experienced International traveller.”

“Yeah, well even International traveller’s make mistakes.”

“So let me get this right. We’re meant to be in France?”

“Correct. But this airport serves France, Switzerland and Germany.”

“And our coach leaves from France.”

“Yep.”

“But we’re in Switzerland.”

“Er, yeah. We’ll have to find our way back across the border somehow. Hey, where are you going?”

“I spy a pretty lady at a desk with ‘Information’ written on it.”

Bodie looked up to where Doyle was pointing. “Ah. Perfect.”

They approached the desk and combined chatting up the young receptionist with the need to obtain information. So busy were they trying to compete for her attention, that they failed to notice that their activities were being watched.

As they thanked the receptionist and made their way through the barrier to French soil, the man at the newspaper kiosk watched them carefully, making note of a careful description of them both, and which bus they boarded. Then he moved towards the public phone booth to pass on what he had seen.

********

Doyle felt much better now he was on solid ground, namely a bus being driven confidently but carefully down a two lane motorway, heading at last for Germany. He and Bodie were two of only a dozen passengers, and they sat in the rear seats, away from all the others.

“Are you going to fill me in on the file Cowley let you read?” Bodie kept his voice low, his head close to Doyle’s.

“I wondered when you’d get around to asking,” Doyle gave a half smile.

“That’s the first time you’ve relaxed since Heathrow,” said Bodie.

“Yeah, well I’m like the French rugby team - I don’t travel well.”

“Get on with it, Doyle.”

“Yeah, yeah. Cowley’s looking for a CI5 sleeper, name of Kurt Ashford.” Doyle pulled a photograph from his inside pocket and handed it to Bodie. It showed a tall, slim man with shoulder length black hair and dark blue eyes, accentuated by his pale complexion. “He’s been out of touch for a while now, Cowley thinks he’s changed sides. We find him and bring him back. We’re in Freiburg cos that’s where his Mother was from.”

“And his Father?” Bodie took in the detail of the photo and handed it back to Doyle.

“As English as they come. St Mary Cray, Kent.”

“And where in Freiburg are we supposed to start looking?”

“We’ve got one address to start with, but it can’t be that big a place or so busy we can’t find a CI5 agent, can it?”

********

As it turned out, they couldn’t have been more wrong. As they climbed down the steps of the coach they looked about them in wonder. Freiburg was a bustling, hectically busy city, and every third person was dressed very strangely indeed. Coloured wigs, duck costumes, funny hats, witches, cowboys and devils, all walked about as if they did this every day.

Bodie looked at Doyle, who shrugged and swung his bag over his shoulder. “Where to?” said Doyle.

“Tram to the centre, our hotel is by the Cathedral, about as central as you can get.”

“Lead on, Macduff.”

They took the outdoor escalator up to the level of the Tram stop and tried to work out the timetable. The afternoon sun shone on the snow covered mountains in the distance, drawing their eyes to the blue metal bridge across the railway.

To their right was a large church with two spires, and the sight of it covered in a layer of snow took their breath away.

“It’s really beautiful,” said Doyle.

“Stunning,” agreed Bodie, “but why the hell is everyone dressed like this?”

“God knows.”

At that moment a pretty girl dressed as a scarecrow moved towards them, having overheard their conversation.

“You are English?” she asked, instantly curious.

Doyle smiled at her. “Yes, can you help us?”

“Of course.” Her English was perfect. “Where do you wish to go?”

“Hotel Oberkirch,” said Bodie, checking his notebook.

The scarecrow checked the display board, and pointed to it. “You need Tram number one, it arrives in two minutes. Get off in the centre, at Bertoldsbrunnen, then aim for the spire of the Cathedral. Your hotel is right beside it.”

“Thank you,” said Doyle, the warmth of his smile increasing as he relaxed a little. People here really did seem to like the English. He felt a little stupid by his lack of German, but it didn’t seem that it was going to be an issue.

With predictable efficiency the Tram arrived on time and they crowded aboard with the rest of the passengers. It was very busy, and full of even more people in unusual costumes.

“Blimey,” said Doyle, “it’s like the London Underground.”

“What were you expecting?” asked Bodie, “hay carts and horse drawn carriages?”

“I really don’t know.” Doyle stared out of the window. “I’ve never been to this part of the world before. All I know for sure is I wasn’t expecting this.” As if to illustrate his point the tram halted at a stop and a group of Red Indians got on, cramming into the carriage around them.

Bodie pointed at the display above them. “Next stop, Bertoldsbrunnen. That’s us,” he said. “And then all we’ve got to do is aim for the tallest church spire and we’re there.”

If only things were that easy. When Bodie and Doyle stepped off the tram, overnight bags over their shoulders, they found themselves in the centre of a huge street party, full of families in costumes, food and drink sellers, and loud music. Taking as much care as possible they wound their way through the crowds and down the narrow streets towards the Minster.

The sights and smells captured Bodie’s imagination, and as they finally left the party behind them he couldn’t resist warning Doyle of his intentions. “I’m going straight back there once we’ve checked in,” he said, giving the party a longing look over his shoulder as they walked away.

“I knew you’d say that,” said Doyle, rolling his eyes. “Well I suppose we’ve got to start looking for this Ashford bloke somewhere, we may as well start back there.”

********

** Sunday afternoon **

Together they trudged on, making their way towards the Minster spire which towered over the surrounding area. As the small street they were walking along opened up into the market place, the site of the Minster right in front of them made them stop in their tracks. The beautiful, ancient Cathedral built in warm, red stone, stood proud and magnificent, surrounded by deep snow.

“Wow,” said Doyle, looking up.

“Yeah,” agreed Bodie.

They stood for a few minutes, taking in the sight before them, until Bodie started stamping his feet.

“I’m cold,” he said, with a doleful and somewhat cheeky smile.

“Yeah, okay, come on,” said Doyle, and they made their way across to the quaint hotel opposite the side entrance of the Minster.

Bodie opened the front door and they stamped the snow off their boots before pushing through the heavy, leather lined curtain. They found themselves in a room that could easily have slipped through a time warp. Dark wood panels lined the walls, and a collection of antique plates stood to attention on the plate rack. The tables were set with crisp, white linen table clothes and candles, and comfortable cushions were placed on the benches around the edge of the room.

A pretty woman approached them, wearing a neat uniform and lace lined apron.

“Guten tag, kann ich ihnen helfen?”

Doyle smiled at her, his hopefulness that she would speak English over taking his nervousness of being in a foreign country. “Hi, er, do you speak English?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” she said, smiling, “Can I help you?”

“We have two rooms booked, in the name of Bentley and Layton,” he said.

She led them through the warm, cosy restaurant to the reception desk and looked at a large, red book. “We have one double room booked for you,” she said, looking up at Doyle.

“One room?” Doyle flashed a look at Bodie. “Not a twin?”

“You have the last room in Freiburg,” she said, checking the register again. “It is Fastnacht, Carnival. Every room is taken,” she explained.

“I see,” said Doyle, “and when does Carnival finish?”

“It is the children’s carnival today, and the main parade tomorrow afternoon. People will celebrate until Shrove Tuesday.”

“Like Mardi Gras?” asked Bodie.

“Exactly so,” she said. “It is a very ancient tradition, to drive away evil demons.”

Doyle looked at Bodie again. “So we get to share a room,” he said, the start of a grin on his face.

“Yes,” she said, blushing slightly. “I am sorry. I hope it is okay? It is a very big room.”

“Well in that case I’m sure it will be fine,” said Doyle, not wanting to worry her any more, and wondering secretly if Betty had arranged this on purpose. “Do I sign in here?”

“Er, yes, please, and I will show you upstairs.”

They both signed in the register and then crowded into the small lift up to the first floor.

Producing a big golden key, she ushered them inside a room that left CI5’s finest speechless, as they looked around and took everything in. Elegant wallpaper with cream coloured stripes and hundreds of little pink roses that matched the colour of the curtains and the thick soft carpet. A massive, very old looking bed, made from dark oak like the huge wardrobe next to it. The pillows and quilts were enormous and blindingly white. A beautiful antique table was framed by two matching chairs.

On the wall opposite the bed were two windows facing the side of the Cathedral and overlooking the bustling market square. To their horror the friendly young woman walked over and threw them wide open.

“Is that really necessary?” asked Bodie, a bit shocked by such an act.

“In Germany it is very good to have fresh air,” she said.

Bodie walked over to the window and closed it. “In England you spend a lot of money warming a room, so we wouldn’t want to let the cold in,” he explained.

Doyle rescued her, taking the key from her hand and walking back to the door with her. “Danke, er?”

“Belinda,” she said.

“Danke, Belinda. We’ll be fine now.”

“Please, one thing more.”

“Sure.”

“If you are late from the Carnival then the front door will be locked, you will need to ring at the side entrance.”

“Fine, no problem. Thanks, love.”

And as she left and shut the door behind her, Bodie and Doyle both burst into fits of laughter.  
Doyle collapsed back on the huge double bed. “Oh Christ,” he said, “they’ve given us the bloody honeymoon suite.”

Bodie sat in one of the ancient armchairs, still chuckling. “Yeah, I know, and then they want us to freeze to death in here, on top of everything else.”

Doyle rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “What now?” he asked. “Do you want to un-pack?”

“Nah,” said Bodie, looking out of the window like a kid in a toy shop. “Let’s get back down there. I like the sound of a Carnival, and we’re not going to find Ashford sitting around here.”

********

On any other day, walking along the Kaiser-Joseph-Straße would have been more than enough for any tourist. The tall, elegant buildings on either side gave a feeling of security and safety. A feeling that was quickly dispelled by the deep gully running down both sides of the street, which if you weren’t looking where you were going, could easily cause a fall. It was even worse in cold weather, as they filled with snow and were therefore difficult to spot until you tripped down one.

But on this day, this particular Sunday, the street was buzzing and lively and getting livelier by the minute. There were food and drink stalls on both sides, selling anything from sausage to sweets, and everything in between. The smells combined to create a confused mix of sweet and savoury, with such variety it was difficult to know what to choose.

Bodie went straight to a Bratwurst stall, his eyes lighting up at the choice. With lots of pointing and cheerful exchanges he bought two, and copying the previous customer he covered them both in mustard.

‘You’re not going to put that in your mouth are you?” said Doyle.

“Worse than that, this one’s for you,” said Bodie, handing him the long red sausage contained in a short, stumpy crusty roll.

“God, that’s gorgeous,” mumbled Bodie, as he devoured it.

Doyle tasted his tentatively, not being a lover of American hotdogs. But this was nothing like an American hotdog, or an English sausage, come to that, and he soon got stuck in, although his enthusiasm didn’t quite match Bodie’s who quickly went back for seconds.

They worked their way through the crowds, sampling deep fried sugar covered treats at every turn.  
Every so often the crowd would part to allow a marching band to pass through, playing a strange selection of modern day tunes very badly, and very loudly.

Doyle noticed that the Carnival people took great care to keep warm. Their costumes were made of many layers and covered every limb, and they jumped, marched and danced. All these things helped them to keep warm as they celebrated. Doyle, on the other hand, was frozen.

“You okay?” asked Bodie, noticing his shivering. “Here, get this down you.” He handed over some money to another vendor and took delivery of two small glasses full of hot red liquid.

Doyle looked at him questioningly.

“Gluhwein,” explained Bodie, sipping his carefully.

Doyle sipped at the boiling hot spicy liquid, amazed at how quickly it made its way straight down to his toes. “That’s bloody lovely,” he said, as the warming affect spread through his whole body.

As they stood on the sidelines sipping their drinks, a pretty young woman suddenly ran behind them, hiding from three guys in sailor suits. She shrieked and ran around the two agents, chased by the three lads. They cornered her and grabbed her, then each stole a kiss before running off. She looked as though they had really made her day. She laughed and gabbled something to Doyle who just nodded and smiled, hoping she wouldn’t realise he didn’t have a clue what was going on.

He looked up at Bodie who was laughing. “It’s something to do with fertility,” he chuckled, “lots of people get pregnant during Fastnacht.”

The street was completely packed full of people by now, and there was hardly room for any of the passing bands to get through. But there was no sense of threat, no worries about having your pockets picked like in London. Bodie and Doyle side stepped their way through the crowds, sharing in the body warmth of the mass of people.

Eventually the sun set, the snow started to fall, and the temperature dropped. The crowd slowly dispersed, and the two CI5 agents made their way back to the warmth of their hotel room.

********

Doyle finished washing, and cleaning his teeth, and emerged from the bathroom wearing his pyjama bottoms, a towel draped around his shoulders.

Bodie was already in bed, curled on one side facing the wall.

Doyle sensed all was not well. “You okay?” he asked.

“Hmm? Yeah. Why?”

“You haven’t really said much since we got back.”

“I forgot about the accommodation.”

“Why, what’s wrong with it?”

Bodie rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not really used to sharing,” he admitted.

“We’ve done it often enough,” said Doyle, sitting on his side of the bed.

“In bunks, and tents and when we’ve crashed out on each other pissed, but not in a honeymoon suite in a five star hotel.”

Doyle laughed, his eyes twinkling. “You’re right there, hadn’t thought about it that way.” He lifted the quilt and got into bed. “You want to put a pillow down the middle, just in case one of us gets ideas?” he said, a smile still on his lips.

Bodie relaxed, realising how daft he was being. “No, I think I can trust myself,” he said.

“Oh yeah, but can you trust me?” said Doyle, winking at him before rolling over to turn out the light.

*********

** Monday morning **

Bodie and Doyle sat down at the table in the window, looking somewhat out of place in the quaintly traditional room.

A slim, pretty waitress approached. “Guten Morgen,” she said, “may I get breakfast for you?”

“Ja, danke,” said Bodie, “with tea please.”

As she walked away with their order, Doyle looked out of the window at the snow covered Cathedral. “So, where do we start?” he said.

Bodie shrugged. “There must have been something in the file?”

“Only one address, where Ashford’s Mother lived.”

“And where’s that then?”

“Near the hospital.”

“Well we’ll eat first then get over there, yeah?”

The waitress came back with two teapots, cups and saucers, which she arranged on the table before them.

“What’s your name, love?” asked Doyle, smiling up at her.

“Hilke,” she blushed, then dashed away again.

Bodie looked at him from under his eyelashes. “Down, boy,” he said, grinning.

Quickly she came back with another tray, and laid out a huge array of food on the table. Fresh bread rolls, sliced sausage, cream cheese and paper thin sliced cheese. She gave a brief bob, then disappeared again.

“Well what do we do with this lot?” said Doyle, slightly taken aback.

“We eat it,” said Bodie, helping himself to a bread roll and a big chunk of sliced sausage.

Doyle poured the tea and watched as Bodie tucked in. “Come on, mate,” said Bodie with his mouth full, “it’s gorgeous.”

“I might just ask for a piece of toast,” said Doyle. He became aware they were being watched, and he looked up to see Hilke smiling at him from across the room. Shyly, she came back to the table.

“Can I help you?” she said. When Doyle nodded gratefully, she took an oval shaped bread roll covered in black poppy seeds and deftly cut it once across and once in half. Then she spread one of the pieces with cream cheese and delicately draped a thin slice of cheese on top, followed by a slice of sausage. Then she placed the finished creation on Doyle’s plate in front of him.

His wide smile was genuinely warm. “Thank you,” he said.

She blushed again, and left them to it.

It didn’t take them long to clear the plates.

Bodie yawned, not surprising when he realised how much he had just eaten. “I feel like a nap,” he said, stretching his arms out wide.

Doyle stood up and pulled his jacket on. “Tough,” he said, “we’ve got an agent to find.”

Bodie sighed and followed suit, and with a wave at Hilke, they stepped out into the cold, crisp morning.

********

Ashford collected his coffee from the serving window and stood at one of the high tables, leaning against it as he sipped. The brightly lit display of cakes and pastries should have captured his attention, but his mind was firmly fixed on one thing. Getting away from the two CI5 agents who he knew had arrived in town to locate him.

The door opened, letting the cold in momentarily, and a petite young woman with long black hair joined him.

“Kurt,” she said, reaching up to him for a brief kiss. “You sounded so worried on the phone. What is it?”

He looked down, staring into his coffee, bleakly. “Time’s up, Ellen,” he said.  
“What has happened?”

“My old boss has sent some people to find me, to take me back.”

Ellen’s heart stepped up a beat. “Can they make you?”

“Yes.”

“But do they know what you’ve been through? How close you came...”

“No,” he said, sharply, stopping her from saying any more. “And they won’t care.”

“Then we have to leave, now,” she grabbed his arm, squeezing it and looking deep into his eyes.

“There’s no time.”

“Why?”

“They’re already here, already on my trail.”

“Then we’ll have to make time,” she said.

Ashford looked up at her, taking in the flushed, excited look on her face, the sparkle in the blue eyes.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked with curiosity. He had been with Ellen for two years now, and life with her had not once been dull. He had no idea what she would come up with to get them out of this, but he was sure that somehow, she would.

********

Several frustrating hours later, Bodie and Doyle returned to the centre of Freiburg. They had been on and off trams and buses and got lost three times, only to discover that Ashford’s Mother had died several years ago and nobody had seen her son since then.

The city centre had altered while they had been away. Barriers had been placed down all the streets, marking the route of the parade. Because of the disruption their tram stopped one stop early, and they picked their way through the back streets aiming for the spire of the Cathedral.

As they walked through one street lined with shops Doyle suddenly stopped in his tracks. He was drawn like a magnet to the window of an old shop. There was a metal shutter over the window because the shop was shut, but he could still see through to the display behind. Bodie followed him.

“Oh my God,” said Bodie.

“Yeah.”

The window presented an awe inspiring display of guns, cross bows, hunting knives, pen knives and rifles.

For a moment they both just stared in silence.

“You can just buy this stuff in an ordinary shop?” said Doyle, incredulous.

“Looks like it,” said Bodie. “See anything you fancy?”

“Not half,” said Doyle, with a grin, taking up the line on cue.

“Nice crossbow.”

“Nice,” agreed Doyle, “but a bit impractical. Now that, that’s practical.” He pointed at a red Swiss Army Knife.

“Red suits you.”

“I always thought so.”

“Shame the shop’s shut.”

“It’s probably cos of the carnival. We can come back tomorrow?” said Doyle, looking at Bodie hopefully.

“Anything to keep you happy, mate!”

With one last longing look, they carried on down the street. The nearer they got to the Minster the busier it became, until eventually they found themselves in the main market square, along with hundreds of other people. The barriers cut through the centre of the market place and people were starting to take their places.

“The Parade must be about to start,” said Doyle. “And we can’t get across to the hotel from here.”  
But Bodie was already diverting them to a Bratwurst stall.

“You can’t possibly be hungry already,” said Doyle.

“Breakfast was hours ago.”

“True, but there was enough food to keep you going for a week.”

“It might keep you going for a week mate, but not me. You want one?”

“Er, no, thanks,” said Doyle, as Bodie approached the stall with a smile, coming back a few minutes later with a crusty roll containing a long creamy coloured sausage covered in mustard.

Bodie munched one end of the sausage. “It’s a different one to yesterday,” he said, “a different flavour. Very nice though.”

Doyle raised his eyes to the sky and guided them both through the crowd to the barrier in the shadow of the Minster, directly opposite their hotel. “We might as well watch from here,” he said, “nobody’s going anywhere until this parade finishes.” He looked up at the clock tower to check the time; two o’clock.

There was a friendly collection of people all around. A father stood close to them with a little boy and girl, one dressed as a Knight, one as a Princess. The two agents smiled at the children as they tucked into their Bratwurst. Doyle noticed that the Father left the children at the barrier while he went to buy the lunch – something you wouldn’t have risked in London.

Amongst the dense crowds, they failed to notice two people stood opposite them, just outside the Hotel Oberkirch, a tall, pale, dark haired man, with his arm around a petite women with raven hair. The couple watched the two agents for a minute or two, then slowly melted away into the crowd.

********

** Monday afternoon **

The sound of distant, persistent drumming announced the beginning of the Carnival parade. The sound came closer and closer until at last they got their first view of the participants.

The different tribes paraded proudly down the street, some playing loud and enthusiastic music, some dancing, some doing acrobatics. The colourful costumes were stunning, and worn by everyone in the tribe from tiny babies to adults. And again, as with the day before, everyone wore intense and beautifully carved wooden masks.

A man in bright green came to stand right in front of them, shouting “Narri!” Bodie joined the crowd around them in their shouted reply, “Narro!”

“It’s great, isn’t it?” said Bodie, happily.

“I had no idea German’s were so crazy,” said Doyle.

A huge monster with long claws and pointed fangs skipped elaborately down the road, hitting people with three inflated bladders hanging from a long pole.

Doyle suddenly realised what it reminded him of. “Blimey, they’re like Morris Dancers on heat!” he said, turning to Bodie with a smile, just as the monster hit him on the head with the bladders.

“Ouch!” he cried out, laughing.

Before he could recover another monster threw a huge handful of confetti at them both, covering their heads and shoving it down the back of their necks. Unfortunately Doyle was still in the middle of laughing after the previous encounter and managed to inhale a big mouthful of the confetti.

Coughing his heart out, freezing cold and covered in silver glitter, Doyle suddenly wondered what on earth he was doing here.

“Fuck!” he spluttered.

“That’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut,” said Bodie, slapping him on the back, helpfully.

The noise level grew as another out of tune marching band paused just in front of them, blasting out a brassy rendition of Sweet Caroline. Doyle winced.

A wild troupe of Devils careered down the street, leaping and jumping and attacking the viewing public at every step, ruffling hair, stealing hats, and throwing sweets. Bodie stooped down to retrieve some sweets for the little girl standing next to them, and as Doyle turned to watch, he felt himself grabbed from behind, and suddenly he was being heaved over the low barrier. Two of the devils had firm hold of his arms and they danced around in a circle, forcing him to take part. He got a glimpse of Bodie waving and shouting at him, then he felt a sudden sharp pain in his leg, and he lost all sense and feeling as he fell unconscious.

Bodie was amazed to see Doyle apparently suddenly taking part in the Carnival parade, but immediately sensed something was wrong as he saw his partners’ knees give way. A huge group of people dressed as lizards linked together in a conga line and passed in front of him, momentarily obscuring his view. He clambered over the barrier and tried to push through them, but they danced around and around him, refusing to let him out of the circle. Stopping short of actually hitting anyone, he finally forced his way through and stood in the middle of the parade, trying to see where Doyle had gone. But it was too late. He had disappeared.

********

“No, pull that one tighter, that’s it. Then fix that strap.”

Doyle felt himself being manhandled until he was lying on his side on the floor, his arms crossed in front of him. For some reason, he couldn’t move them.

He struggled to open his eyes. It was dark, and he was intensely cold. Suddenly a huge Devil’s face loomed in front of him, holding a syringe. There was a sharp pain in the back of his hand, and he passed out.

********

** Monday Evening **

Bodie finally made his way back to the Hotel at around 8pm, having been searching the streets for Doyle every minute since his abduction. He sat at the bar and ordered a Schnaps, and then another one, wondering if he had ever felt more desolate and alone.

After a short while the receptionist, Belinda, approached him. “Please sir, telephone,” she said, guiding him back to the reception desk. Bodie jumped up and followed her, picking up the phone with shaking fingers.

“Bodie,” he said.

“I expect you’ll be wanting to meet with me,” said a calm voice.

“Where and when?”

“The Ufer Cafe, on the river Dreisan. Ten minutes. I will be waiting.”

The phone clicked dead.

Bodie looked up at Belinda who had been waiting behind the counter. “Can you get me a taxi, quick?” he said, knowing he didn’t have time to get there on the trams, no matter how efficient they were.

********

The taxi dropped Bodie off at the top of a snow covered slope that led down to a large cafe at the river side. On a warm sunny day it must have been a very popular spot, but now, on a freezing cold February night, it was understandably deserted. Bodie skidded down the slope to the entrance of the cafe. The River Dreisam flowed fast and pure, sparkling in the moonlight. There was no-one in sight but Bodie spotted a slip of white paper sticking out of the letterbox. He opened it and read.

“No tricks. You are being watched. Any false move will result in the instant death of your partner. Go back up to the main road, cross over and make your way up river to the second bridge.”

He screwed the note up and thrust it into his pocket, then made his way back up the slippery slope.

He ran across the road avoiding a tram and several cars, and quickly walked along the row of houses lining the riverside to the second bridge, as instructed.

Standing halfway across the pretty footbridge was a tall man, his hands in his pockets, his hat pulled down low over his eyes.

Bodie stepped onto the bridge.

“Stop right there.”

Bodie stopped. He exhaled, his breath showing up as a cloud of steam around him.

“You are from CI5?”

Bodie nodded.

“If you want your partner back, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

“Is he okay?”

“He is...incapacitated.”

“What does that mean?”

“He is drugged and in a strait jacket, and he will remain so unless you co-operate.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t co-operate.”

“No, but you need to understand that he will not be escaping by himself.”

“I understand.”

There was a pause as both men evaluated each other.

“I need 24 hours. You let me cross the border and once I am free I’ll contact you and tell you where he is.”

“Why can’t you just go now, and tell me where he is?”

“I need a little more time.”

Bodie tensed. “If anything happens to him, I will personally hunt you down and kill you, Ashford.”

“Ah yes, CI5 loyalty. I had forgotten what it was like. It is difficult to feel loyal to an organisation which abandons you when the going gets rough.” Ashford’s voice sounded tired.

“What happens now?” asked Bodie.

“I know where to find you. I will be in touch within 24 hours. Do we have a deal, Bodie?”

“We have a deal.”

“Then start walking back the way you came. Now. “

Bodie reluctantly turned and started to walk back down the little street, and when he turned back a few moments later, Ashford was gone.

********

Doyle’s eyes flickered open slightly, consciousness returning only partially. In the dark, he strained to focus. The Devil turned its back to him. The thick, woolly costume was unbuttoned and dropped onto the floor, revealing the shape of a woman wearing only a bra and pants. The devils head was pulled off next, and Doyle made out long black hair being shaken forward and then back.

“Bloody thing itches,” she muttered. She pulled on jeans, a t shirt and jumper, but not before he caught a glimpse of a black rose tattoo on her upper arm. She pulled a brush through her hair and tied it into a pony tail then pulled the devil mask back on.

She turned back towards him. “Hello, awake are we? We’ll have to fix that.”

With the skill of an expert, she untied one strap of the strait jacket, revealing his hand. She took the syringe from her bag and filled it, then injected the contents into the back of his hand, before replacing the straps.

“There, there, pet, that should do it.” She patted his cheek lightly, as his eye lids flickered and he slipped under once more.

********

It was gone midnight before she heard the sound of the front door being unlocked and then slammed back shut again. She came out from the kitchen and hugged her lover close.

“All done?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Yes. I’ve got all the papers and money we need. We’re ready for the morning. 10.35 train from Freiburg.”

“So we get to watch what happens, before our train leaves?”

Ashford nodded. “We’ll know if the plan has worked. And Bodie will be too pre-occupied to worry about us.”

“It sounds good.” Ellen took Ashford’s hand and led him back to the warm kitchen. They both sat down at the scrubbed wooden table.

“How’s our guest?” asked Ashford.

“Totally out of it.”

“And you’ve been making sure you kept your mask on?”

“Of course.” Ellen sounded put out. “I do know what I’m doing, you know.”

“We can’t afford to take any risks.”

“Don’t worry.”

“I don’t want them to identify you. I also don’t want anything to happen to this Doyle. He is a CI5 agent, after all.”

“And what does that mean?”

“They’re not the enemy.”

“Oh Kurt, the way they’ve treated you over the years, they feel like the enemy to me.”

Ashford ran his hand through his hair, looking drained. Ellen stood up and walked around behind him, resting her arms over his shoulders and kissing the side of his neck. “When I met you at the Hospital, they had been using you for years, and didn’t care what had happened to you. I put you back together. We deserve our chance at happiness now.”

Ashford turned around to face her. “When did you give him his last dose?”

“About 10 minutes ago.”

“Then let’s get some sleep while we can.”

Ellen smiled, took his hand, and led him upstairs to the bedroom.

********

Lying in the pitch black in the basement, unable to move, his limbs restricted, was bad enough, but it was the cold that felt like the last straw. His arms weren’t so bad because at least they were inside the strait jacket, but lying on the concrete floor made his legs feel so cold it seemed like they were burning. He had stopped shivering a long time ago. He drifted from dream to reality, not at all sure which was which. And in both there was the devil, looming towards him, sticking needles in him. Surely this couldn’t be real, could it?

********

** Tuesday morning **

Bodie stirred his tea, staring blankly into space. He hadn’t even noticed the waitress waiting patiently by his table.

“Sir?” she said again.

He looked up with a start. “Sorry?”

“Full breakfast for you, like yesterday?” she asked with a smile.

He shook his head. “No, thanks.” It wasn’t like yesterday. Not at all. “I’m fine.”

“More tea?” she asked, curious about where the other Englishman had gone, and why this one seemed so sad.

He managed a smile for her. “No, thanks Hilke.”

She bobbed slightly and left him to it, realising she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him.  
The big clock of the Cathedral chimed nine and Bodie pushed his chair back as he stood up. The shops would be open soon, and there was something Bodie needed to do.

********

It didn’t take Bodie long to trudge through the freshly fallen snow to the pretty side street, and he found himself standing outside the Waffen-Kirsch shop just as the bolts were drawn from the inside.

As the shopkeeper, Mr Kirsch, Bodie assumed, wound the mechanism that raised the metal shutters from the windows, Bodie stepped inside. Keeping focussed on his task he just about managed to pull his gaze away from the gun cabinet to look carefully at the display of Swiss Army Knives.

Mr Kirsch turned to Bodie. “Oh Sie sind etwas früh. Was kann ich für Sie tun?”

Bodie looked apologetic. “Erm, sorry,” he said, haltingly, “sprechen Sie Englisch?”

“Ah yes, but of course,” said Mr Kirsch, “How can I help you?”

“Can I see number 15 please.” Bodie pointed at the knife Doyle had been eyeing up in the window the previous day.

Mr Kirsch unlocked the cabinet and removed the pen knife in question, handing it to Bodie for inspection. Bodie raised an eyebrow as he noticed his heavily bandaged finger. Mr Kirsch was so formally dressed in a suit and bow tie, the enormous bandage looked out of place. Bodie wondered if he had cut his finger while handling one of his own knives.

Carefully, almost reverently, Bodie turned the knife over in his hands, opening and closing each of the blades one by one. He marvelled at the clever design of the scissors and the screwdriver, imagining how Doyle would delight in using them. Sighing, he handed it back to the shop keeper with a small smile. “Danke,” he said, “I’ll take it.”

The shopkeeper placed the knife back in its box and Bodie handed him the cash to complete the transaction.

Then, with a polite “Auf Wiedersehen”, he put the box in his pocket and left the shop.

With his hands in his pockets, and his collar up as protection against the cold, he made his way slowly back to the hotel.

********

As Bodie stood in the hotel lobby and stamped his feet to get the snow off his shoes, the dark haired receptionist, Belinda, came rushing up to him.

“Please sir,” she said, “telephone! It is urgent. Come quickly.”

He rushed through the main dining room to the reception counter and grabbed the phone receiver.

“Yes, Bodie,” he said.

“I was beginning to give up on you.”

“You said 24 hours.”

“I lied. Now do you want to know where to find your partner, or not?”

“Where is he?”

“You have until 10.20, then his train will leave the station with him on board.”

“Which train?”

“I’m sure one of Cowley’s finest can figure that out for himself. I have your word about giving us time to get away?”

“You have my word.”

“Good luck, Bodie.”

The phone clicked.

*******

Without another word Bodie span about and rushed back through the main door of the hotel. He ran through the market square at full pelt, ignoring the snow underfoot. He charged up the side street, avoiding shoppers as he went, until he got near the tram stop on the main street. In a flash, he realised the tram to the station was already waiting at the stop, and he sped up in order to get there in time, leaping aboard just as the doors closed.

He braced himself against the glass partition, staring out of the window. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath. The tram went at a faster speed than he could walk, but it suddenly seemed incredibly slow. He checked his watch. 10.05am.

Another stop went by, with people getting on and off. Time seemed to stand still. Then it all became too much and he finally lost his patience and got off one stop early, leaping down onto the pavement and running as fast as he could up the sloping, snow covered bridge towards the station.

He skidded to a halt at the top of the bridge, nearly falling as he slid on the snow. Grabbing the cold stone, he looked down at the tracks below. There were three trains. Which one was it? He took the stairs down to the platform three at a time and ran to the display board, staring at it as he tried to work out the timetable. The train nearest him didn’t leave for another 25 minutes, which meant it wasn’t Doyle’s train.

He ran along the platform and down the steps into the subway, emerging moments later back up on the next platform. This train left at 10.20am. He glanced up at the clock on the platform – seven minutes to go. He ran to the first carriage and leapt aboard, swearing under his breath when he realised it was a double-decker; he would have to check both levels. Pushing his way through the lower level first, he then ran up the stairs to the upper deck. There were plenty of people on board, but no Doyle.

Jumping down, he ran to the next carriage, performing the same search there. Still nothing. The same with the third carriage. He was fast running out of time.

Trying not to panic, he started to ask people as he passed them. “Have you seen an Englishman, a guy on his own, somewhere here, please?”

He got lots of strange looks, but no real help, and he leaped off onto the platform again to board the fourth carriage.

“Has anyone seen a man on his own on this train, maybe injured?” he said, as he pushed his way along another busy carriage. Then suddenly, a few seats away, a hesitant hand was raised.

He stopped in his tracks. “Yes?” he said, “Can you help me?”

The young woman put her hand down, looking a little embarrassed. “I saw someone over there,” she said.

“You’re English?” he said, the relief evident in his voice.

“Yes,” she said, getting up, “I’m here for the carnival. Look, over this way, I just thought he was drunk or something.” She led Bodie to the end of the carriage to a small seating area with only four seats in it. And there, slumped in a corner seat with his back to the rest of the carriage, was Doyle.

The girl stood back as Bodie fell onto the seat beside him, his trembling fingers reaching for his neck to feel for a pulse. She went pale as she realised the man might be dead.

Bodie exhaled in relief as he felt the fluttery beat beneath his fingers. “Okay, Ray, let’s get you out of here,” he muttered, as he put his arms around Doyle’s back and pulled him upright. A quick adjustment had Doyle vertical, then suddenly in the distance there was a harsh whistle.

“The train’s going,” said the girl in a hushed voice. She went to the door and held the button, pushing her leg against the door to keep it open as Bodie carefully manoeuvred himself and Doyle down the step onto the platform. He looked up at her as she stood framed in the doorway.

“Thank you,” he said, trying to give her a smile.

The doors closed, and she mouthed through the glass at him, “Good bye, good luck.”

And the train moved out of the station.

********

They both nearly collapsed on the slippery, snow covered platform. Doyle was a heavy, boneless weight in his arms and Bodie just about managed to drag him over to the nearest bench and prop him into a sitting position.

Perching on the seat next to him and ignoring the peculiar glances they attracted from people passing or standing nearby, he took Doyle’s face in his hands and gently shook him. “Ray?” he called in a loud voice, “Ray! Come on mate!”

No response. Running his fingers over his partner’s skull he was relieved to feel no bumps or bruises. Gently pushing his eyelids up with the pad of his thumb he checked his pupils. Hugely dilated, as he had suspected, but thankfully both the same size. He felt his pulse next, softly pressing two fingers to Ray’s throat, and frowned when he found the slow, rather weak heartbeat. He didn’t like the laboured, shallow breathing either.

Taking in the faintly blue lips and the goose-bumps on Doyle’s naked arms it finally hit him that his captors had removed his jacket, leaving him with only his jeans and a ridiculously thin t-shirt in this freezing climate.

Cursing under his breath he took his mate’s ice-cold hands in his, rubbing gently, and then stopped dead. Looking down he softly ran his thumbs over the red, puckered puncture marks covering the backs of both Ray’s hands. For a moment Bodie’s face went pale and completely blank with rage.  
Then he jumped up, quickly shrugged out of his own chequered woollen jacket and slightly clumsily dressed his partner in it. Doyle’s head lolled forwards when he fastened the zip, and his teeth began to chatter, but Bodie took it as a good sign that Doyle could still feel the cold and react to it.

“What’ve they been pumping you full of then, sunshine?” he muttered, hoisting the slumped figure up from the bench. He carefully pulled Ray’s arm around his shoulders and slipped an arm around his waist, firmly holding him upright.

“Ok, son, let’s get you home,” he grunted, slowly making his way to the nearest stairs.

With some difficulty Bodie managed to get them both down the stairs and through the subway to the entrance of the station, where he approached the first taxi he saw.

“Hotel Oberkirch, danke,” he said, opening the rear door and shoving Doyle inside.

The cabbie, a bald middle aged man, slammed down the paper he had just been reading and shot them a clearly disgusted “Why do I always get the drunks?” look.

“Wenn sich ihr Freund in meinem Taxi übergibt, zahlen sie die Reinigung,” he said forcefully.

“Yeah, right, danke.“ Bodie pushed his mate over and squeezed in next to him shutting the door behind him.

As the car slowly started and pulled away from the kerb Bodie put his arm around Ray and pulled him close, settling his head against his shoulder. Doyle gave a faint moan and a shiver ran through him. Bodie squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Almost there, mate, not far now.” He placed his flat hand over Ray’s heart and left it there. The driver shot them another outraged look in the rear view mirror but it didn’t bother Bodie in the least. He just needed to feel the steady rise and fall of Ray’s chest and that soft thudding beneath his hand.

In a mercifully small amount of time the cab pulled up in the street behind the hotel, the main entrance not being accessible because of the market. Bodie shoved more than enough money at the driver, and heaved Doyle out of the car, back into the freezing cold air.

Sliding his arm around his waist and ducking under his arm to take his weight, he started to half drag him down the tiny alleyway that led to the back entrance of the hotel. Hugely grateful that no-one else was coming up the narrow alley, he was careful not to slip on the wet cobblestones or step into the inevitable Bächle running along one side.

Just as they reached the doorway Bodie heard a pain filled groan and peered worriedly into Doyle’s ashen face. “Hang on, Ray!” he said through gritted teeth, “we’re there.”

** Tuesday lunchtime **

As Bodie leaned an almost unconscious Doyle against the door frame and pressed the button, he felt relieved when it was the waitress, Hilke, who came to answer it.

“Sorry,” said Bodie, “we forgot our key, I’m afraid my friend had too much Gluhwein at the carnival.”

Hilke smiled at him, but her expression turned to concern when she looked at Doyle, thinking that he didn’t look drunk at all. “He does not look well,” she said.

“Well, like I say. He got a bit drunk. I’ll get him up to the room.”

Hilke stood back and watched as Bodie dragged Doyle through the little lobby and into the small lift.

She realised that Bodie didn’t look too great either, in fact, he looked exhausted.

She pressed the button to hold the lift door open. “Can I get you both something?” she asked.

“Yes, please, some tea would be great.”

“Maybe some hot soup?” she suggested. “He looks cold.”

“Sure, whatever you think,” said Bodie, “thanks.” The girl was being kind, but Bodie needed to get Doyle upstairs quickly.

At last, the doors of the elevator slid shut.

Bodie reached out and grabbed Doyle, who was in the process of slipping down to the floor.

“Come on mate, stay with me.”

The doors slid open and Bodie struggled to get them both to their room. With almost frozen fingers he fumbled with the key. Once inside, he dragged Doyle over to the bed, and they both collapsed onto it in exhausted relief.

********

Bodie hadn’t realised how many minutes had gone by, until there was a knock on the door which quickly brought him to his senses. He leapt to his feet.

“Yes?” he said.

“Room service, your soup, sir.” It was Hilke’s voice and he quickly let her in. She placed a tray on the side table, loaded with a pot of tea, tomato soup and bread. Slightly shocked, she stared at Doyle lying unconscious on the bed. “Do you need help?” she asked, quietly.

“Thanks, love,” said Bodie, putting his hand on her elbow and leading her back out of the room. “We’ll be fine. I know how to look after him.”

“Please call if you need anything,” she managed to say, before finding herself back out in the corridor, and the door being shut firmly behind her.

Bodie leaned back against it, looking over at Doyle. “Now all I’ve got to do is prove it,” he whispered.  
He walked over to the bed and knelt down, reaching his hand out to Doyle’s cheek.

“Ray? Can you hear me, mate?”

There was no reaction and Bodie realised the skin beneath his fingers was ice cold. “Shit,” he said, suddenly spurred into action.

He hurried into the en suite bathroom and started to fill the bath, making sure that the water temperature was not too hot. Then he went back into the bedroom where he started to strip Doyle’s clothes, pulling his boots and socks off, before struggling slightly with the tight jeans.

“Bloody things,” he muttered, under his breath. The pants were next, then he pulled Doyle’s t shirt over his head, getting a faint groan in response.

“It’s okay, Ray,” he said, “we’ve just got to get you warmed up.” Pulling Doyle upright he half carried, half dragged him to the bathroom.

“I’ve never noticed how hard it is to get another human being into a bath,” he muttered, as he struggled to do just that. “Come on, mate, help me out a bit, will you.”

To his credit Doyle tried to cooperate, but the drugs had left him unsure and shaky, and the hours spent in the strait jacket had made his arm muscles weak. But with some effort Bodie managed to manoeuvre him over the side of the bath and into the deep, warm water.

The shock woke Doyle out of his stupor. “Ah, Christ,” he hissed, his eyes flickering open.

Bodie rolled his sleeves up and started to rub Doyle’s arms and legs vigorously. “You’re like a block of ice,” he explained. “Ready for some more hot now?”

Doyle nodded, and let his head fall back on the porcelain edge, closing his eyes again.

After the temperature had increased sufficiently, Bodie turned the hot water off.

He left Doyle’s side for a second to fetch the tea from the other room. “Best way to warm you up, old son,” he said, lifting the cup to Doyle’s lips. “Here, drink some.” He managed to force a few sips into him before giving up and putting the cup on the floor.

Satisfied that there was little else he could do to warm his partner now, he reached for the little bottle of hotel shampoo.

“Come on,” he said, “put your head back in the water, I’ll help.”

As he put his hand carefully around the back of Doyle’s neck there was a sudden, aggressive reaction. Doyle’s eyes sprung back open, filled with panic, and he lost his balance in the huge bath, falling back under the water.

“Ray! Calm down!”

Doyle spluttered and struggled to get up, as Bodie tried to calm him.

“Get off me!”

“Ray, it’s only me, Bodie!”

“I said get off me!”

Bodie took a slippery hold of Doyle’s shoulders and shook him as firmly as he dared. “Doyle, will you listen to me? It’s me, Bodie, you’re safe now. You need to calm down.”

There seemed no sign of recognition, and Doyle simply closed his eyes and turned his head away from Bodie, his whole body shaking.

As his hair was wet already, Bodie took the opportunity to apply the shampoo to the curls, rubbing it in as carefully as he could.

Then he put his hand on the back of Doyle’s neck again, hoping it didn’t create the same reaction as before. “Trust me, Ray, okay?” he whispered, as he took the weight and lay Doyle’s head back, keeping the water out of his eyes as he rinsed the shampoo out. He kept the task as brief as possible, not wanting to cause his partner any more distress. Then he pulled the plug and set about getting him back out of the bath.

He didn't bother with pyjamas or any other clothing. He just dried him off as well as he could, which was hard enough with Doyle either sagging against him or slowly falling backwards.

"Christ mate, you could really give me a hand, you know," he snarled in desperation.

Doyle's eyes snapped open and he tried to steady himself by holding on to Bodie's elbows. Wide, hazy eyes tried to focus. "Bodie?" he croaked.

His mate let out a loud, shaky breath. "Bloody hell, sunshine, it's about time you came back! Now just stay with me, will you?! Do you understand me?" He shook him gently.

"What...what...?" Doyle began slowly shaking his head.

"It's alright mate, everything's fine now. You just sleep off those drugs, we'll talk later, eh?"

He unceremoniously wrapped him in the huge white bath towel and frogmarched him over to the ancient double bed, where he tucked him in and almost buried him under the huge, thick duvet.

When Doyle gave a soft sigh and snuggled even deeper into the pillows, Bodie sat down hard on the nearest chair. Closing his eyes for a few precious seconds he rubbed tired hands over his face. God, he really could do with a nap himself. He felt downright shattered.

Straightening up again, he poured himself some of the mineral water the hotel had put on their table. Sleep would have to wait, and the soup had gone cold. He pulled the chair over to Doyle's side of the bed so he could reach for his wrist easily. He had no idea what drugs his partner had been given or if they had overdosed him with something. So he would make damn sure that Ray kept breathing and that his pulse stayed as it should.

If the stupid golly thought he could just die on him now in his sleep, after he had gone to all this trouble, even down to washing his hair for him, he had another thing coming.

Bodie folded his arms with grim determination and watched his partner's peaceful face, listening to his deep, relaxed breaths.

********

Bodie kept his vigil while Doyle slept, checking his vital signs regularly. He looked at his watch; 3.30pm. As he stretched back in his seat, he became aware of a small noise. He sat up and leaned forward, then stood and transferred to the side of the bed.

“Doyle?” he said, quietly.

Doyle was muttering under his breath, his eyes flickering under the eyelids. One hand was in view above the covers, and the fingers were twitching. Bodie reached out and touched his forehead, relieved to find no fever there. So, it was a dream. He strained to hear Doyle’s words.

“Black rose....black rose......” he muttered. “Can’t see snow anymore.”

“What’s that, mate?” said Bodie, a slight smile playing on his lips, “You can’t see snow? Good job, eh, it’s bloody cold stuff.” His smile didn’t last long; he frowned as soon as he realised the dream was turning into a nightmare.

Doyle started to thrash about, getting himself tangled in the duvet, panic setting in. His eyes were still tightly closed but wetness showed under the lashes. “Can’t move,” he cried out, “let me fucking move.”

Bodie had heard enough. He pulled the suffocating, heavy duvet away, releasing Doyle’s arms where they had become entangled. “Come on,” he said, putting his hands under Doyle’s shoulders and pulling him towards him. “Wake up, Ray, you’re safe now.” He rubbed one hand across Doyle’s back, trying to sooth him. Doyle shuddered as he woke, burying his face into Bodie’s shoulder.

“Are you with me, Ray?”

“Bodie?” he said, his voice muffled against Bodie’s shirt.

“Of course, who else, eh?” Bodie kept hold of him, still rubbing his back.

Doyle gave a long, shuddering breath, then drew back, embarrassment clearly visible on his face.  
"Shit...sorry...I was..." He gulped in another breath. "I had no idea it would get to me so much.”

Bodie ruffled his hair. “What you need, is a cuppa,” he said, standing up to go to the phone.“Hello? Room 12 here. Could we order some tea, soup and sandwiches please? Yes, danke... danke.” He replaced the receiver and returned to sit on the side of the bed, to find Doyle looking at him with an amused expression on his face.

“I doubt they fed you, you must be starving,” he explained.

“And you’re not?” said Doyle, his voice faint but with a hint of his normal self.

“Yeah, well I’m hungry too, I admit it.” Bodie grinned at him. “We’ve got to keep our strength up.” Bodie paused, and became more serious. “You ready to talk about it?” he said, softly. “What can you remember?”

Doyle sighed, not really wanting to talk, but understanding Bodie’s need to know. “I remember the carnival, being pulled away from the crowd by those two idiots in costumes. I thought it was just a joke. Before I knew what was happening they’d injected me with something and I blacked out.”

“Where did they keep you?”

“In a basement of a house,” he said. “I don’t know where but I think I could hear trains starting up, so maybe near the station.”

“Makes sense,” said Bodie. Doyle frowned at him for clarification. “They didn’t give me long to come and get you off that train. It makes sense that you were nearby.”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door and Bodie went to let Hilke in with the refreshments. She smiled at Doyle as she cleared the old tray away, and left without saying anything, reassured at last that he was okay.

Bodie carried the tray over to the bed and gave Doyle a bowl of the spicy tomato soup, followed by a cup of tea. “No more questions till you’ve cleared that,” he said, tucking in to his own bowlful.

The late afternoon sun poured into the room through the window, bathing them in warmth as they ate. The combined efforts of sun, soup and tea, made Doyle feel better. Bodie finished his own soup and went to the dresser, removing one of Doyle’s t-shirts from the drawer. He took the tray away and handed Doyle the shirt. “Here,” he said, “put this on, keep the warmth in, eh?” Then he sat back on the edge of the bed.

“So, what happened then, Ray?”

Doyle sighed again, pulling the t-shirt over his head. “I woke up in the basement.” He looked away from Bodie, out of the window.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was in a strait jacket.”

“I know, Ashford told me.”  
Doyle looked at his face, knowing how worried Bodie would have been. “They kept me in it all the time. Each time I woke up they’d give me another injection.” He paused, looking towards the window again, as if he had seen something really interesting outside. “Have you ever been inside a strait jacket, Bodie? God I’ve never felt so helpless in my whole life.” He paused, looking down at his hands, and said quietly, “And scared. I didn’t know what they were going to do, and I couldn’t have done anything to stop them. ”

Bodie hesitated. He couldn't begin to imagine what must have been going through Doyle's mind all night. “Could you describe them?” he asked. “I mean, I met Ashford last night, but who else was there?”

“There was a girl, she had a tattoo of a black rose on her arm.”

“You didn’t see her face?”

“No.” Doyle dropped his chin, running his finger along his bottom lip.

“Hey, are you okay?” Bodie reached to put his hand on his shoulder.

“It’s stupid, I feel stupid.”

“Why?”

“Being so bothered by the masks.”

“Okay, they wore masks?”

“Carnival masks, the wooden ones.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You were drugged out of your head, tied up in a strait jacket and left for dead in a basement. I’m not surprised that did your head in.”

“I’m a grown man, shouldn’t be scared of masks. I just couldn’t tell if I was awake or dreaming.”

“No use beating yourself up over it. They did this to you cos they knew it would freak you out.”

“Well it worked.”

“Well, it would.”

“No, I know.”

They sat in silence, giving them both a chance to process what had happened. Eventually Doyle shivered, as if someone had just walked over his grave. He looked up. “So,” he said, “what’s your story?”

“I didn’t know what was going on until it was too late, and then I couldn’t get through the crowds. I tried to find you, but where could I look?”

“You weren’t to know what was going to happen,” said Doyle, trying to reassure him.

“I know, but, well, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Stop it. What happened next?”

Bodie ran through the events of the previous evening, how Ashford had arranged the meeting on the bridge and given him his ultimatum. “I had to let him go, they would have killed you. There was no contest. I had to give him the 24 hours he was asking for. He threw me when he contacted me after only 12.”

“So he’s got away now?”

“Without doubt.”

“And no chance of finding him.”

Bodie shook his head. “He’s left the country, mate.”

“Oh, Cowley’s going to be really happy about this.”

“He can sack me for all I care,” said Bodie, getting up abruptly and walking over to the window. As Doyle watched, Bodie reached for his jacket and removed a small box from the pocket, throwing it into Doyle’s lap.

Frowning, Doyle took the box and opened it, removed the knife, and turned it over and over in his fingers. Slowly, he opened all the blades one by one, unconsciously mirroring Bodie’s actions of that morning.

Looking up at Bodie again, he shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

Bodie shrugged. “Yeah, well I knew you liked it, and I was killing time, and I went past the shop, and well, you know.”

“Thanks,” said Doyle.

“Hey, it was nothing,” said Bodie.

“It’s great.”

The last of the evening light had faded and Bodie drew the curtains closed, switching on the lamp. “Ready for some sleep?” he asked. “I know I am.”

“Yeah, sure.” Doyle put his new penknife on the bedside table, and scooted over to make room.

Bodie stripped his clothes quickly and snuggled under the quilt, the bed already warm from Doyle’s body heat. The slight awkwardness of that first night was gone, and all Bodie felt was relief that his partner was back, and an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t quite place.

** Tuesday night **

Maybe it was the dark, solemn sound of the dome bells that woke him.

Maybe it was the awareness that the light in their room had changed.

Slowly opening his eyes, Doyle saw that the curtains had been drawn back, giving entrance to soft, silvery moonlight.

Bodie stood framed in the window opposite the ancient double bed, a black silhouette against the gently lit red-brown stones of the Cathedral. Wearing only his pyjama bottoms he seemed to be looking out over the market square, still as a statue, and something about his motionless form made Doyle glide out of bed and cross the room in three long strides.

“Bodie? What the hell are you doing? It’s two o’clock in the morning!”

When he got no reaction he lightly touched his partner’s shoulder.

“You alright, mate?”

Bodie’s skin was cold. He had placed both hands on the wooden window sill and Doyle wondered how long he had been standing there like this.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Ray?” he suddenly said in a small, almost dreamy voice.

Doyle followed his partner’s gaze taking in the wet, moonlit cobblestones, the eerie loneliness of the deserted market square, the huge gothic windows of the cathedral and its grand, golden clock.

“Doesn’t it look as if time has stopped and is just standing still?” Bodie went on.

Leaning in closer for a moment, Doyle’s whole right side gently pressed against Bodie’s chilled body.

“Makes you think of all the people that lived here before, eh? Hundreds of years ago, walking across this very square, selling their goods, buying what they needed, going to church.” Bodie’s voice was soft as a whisper and there was something so sad and wistful in it that it made Doyle swallow. “And no matter if they were happy or miserable, no matter if their lives were good or full of horror, sickness and dread, they are all gone now. Dead and buried.”

Strangely touched and without thinking, Doyle placed his hand on Bodie’s shoulder, squeezing gently and stroking his thumb along the cold, smooth skin.

When Bodie slowly turned around to face him, Ray saw how haggard and tired his mate’s face looked, saw the deep shadows beneath his eyes and the sharp lines around his mouth. His pale skin seemed to glow in the silvery moonlight and it made Doyle think of sleek, white marble and statues of Greek gods.

“Come back to bed, sunshine! Let’s get you warm again, eh?” he said gently.

Bodie reached out and wrapped his hand around his partner’s wrist.

“If they’d killed you…if they hadn’t given you back…” His hold on Ray’s wrist tightened painfully. “Ashford didn’t need to keep his promise…there was nothing I could have done…”

They locked eyes for a long moment. “Bodie,” Doyle breathed, and it came out as a low growl.  
Wrapping his arms around the broad, chilled back of his partner he pulled him close and a heartbeat later his mouth was on Bodie’s, pressing gently against the cold lips.

And instead of punching his lights out Bodie grabbed his head and kissed him right back.

It was a long, slow, gentle kiss that left Doyle slightly dizzy and weak at the knees. When they drew apart he slowly shook his head as if to clear it. “No?” Bodie whispered, his fingers still tangled in Ray’s curls.

Doyle gently cupped his partner’s face in both hands, then brushed his lips against Bodie’s which were warm now and opened for him willingly.

Landing on a heap of bulging pillows and huge duvets they both froze for a second as the old bed gave a loud creak. Doyle struggled to get his chilled mate under the nearest duvet, while Bodie struggled to pull Ray’s t-shirt over his head.

After a bit of friendly wrestling they were both engulfed in thick, feathery warmth, Doyle minus his shirt but on top of Bodie, who slowly ran his hands up and down his back. He gently sucked on Bodie’s lips and his tongue while strong hands explored his shoulder blades and the back of his neck, before trailing down his spine again and almost shyly cupping his buttocks.

Caressing him through the thin fabric of his briefs Bodie softly rocked up against him, and they both gave a moan as their hard cocks gently rubbed and pressed against each other.

Moving their hips in perfect sync they both started to breathe harder as their kisses became deeper and more urgent.

Doyle sucked and licked his way from Bodie’s neck over his broad, beautiful chest down to his belly using lips, teeth and tongue to find out what his mate liked best.

“Ahhh…Ray…” Bodie groaned, slowly writhing under that eager, teasing mouth. Running shaky fingers through the soft curls he felt Doyle’s hand on his cock, caressing him through the smooth silk of his pyjamas.

Probing Bodie’s belly button with the tip of his tongue he gently cupped his warm, taut balls in his hand, loving all the little sounds his partner made and the way he shuddered again and again.

Doyle decided it was about time to get rid of those trousers but just when he had succeeded in sliding them down Bodie’s long legs and pulling them off, his mate was spurred into action, grabbing him and rolling them around so Ray ended up beneath his mate’s exploring mouth and hungry hands. Bodie made a very thorough job of caressing every inch of his warm, naked skin and there was something about the way he touched him that nearly undid him. It was almost as if Bodie was as much in awe as he was turned on, as if he needed to touch every inch of Doyle to believe that his partner was alive and safe and with him again.

It was Ray’s turn to writhe and shudder, helplessly moaning and swearing under his breath.  
“Christ…” he hissed as Bodie fastened his mouth on his cock through his briefs breathing hot air against him. Then his briefs were gone and Bodie was kneeling between his legs slowly running his fingertips up and down the insides of Doyle’s thighs. Bending down, Bodie wrapped his mouth around his cock, sliding down the rock hard shaft to the root in one swift motion.

“Fuck…” Ray groaned…”Bodie…” but then any ability of speech left him as Bodie started to move his mouth up and down, driving him wild with his lips and his tongue. All he could do was clutch the dark, bobbing head helplessly as he felt every muscle in his body start to tense and tremble.

Doyle nearly arched off the bed when he came, shouting his release and it was only the broad, firm hands on his hips and Bodie’s ruthlessly sucking mouth that kept him in place.

He thought he’d never get his breath back, maybe he’d even passed out for a few seconds. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised.

He vaguely felt his mate sliding up again and when they were face to face Bodie gently bit his neck and wrapped one arm around his still heaving chest.

“You noisy bugger! You’ve probably woken up half the hotel.”

Even in the dim, moonlit darkness he could see Bodie’s face-splitting grin.

“You smug bastard!” he growled, still panting slightly.

But Bodie stopped grinning when he looped one arm around his neck and wrapped his hand firmly around his throbbing cock. He sucked in a breath when Doyle gently ran his thumb across the wet, weeping head teasing the tiny opening. He gave a soft whimper as Ray started to pump his hand up and down the rock hard shaft.

And Doyle watched as Bodie went rigid, threw his head back and opened his mouth in a silent scream as he came in long, shuddering spasms.

** Wednesday **

Doyle woke to an empty bed and muffled noises floating up from the market square.

Sitting up slowly, he spotted Bodie’s bag fully packed and leaning against the wall. He heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

A minute later Bodie strode purposefully into the room shrugging into his jacket. Hardly glancing over at Ray, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“Morning, sleepyhead. You’d better get a move on. The bus to the airport leaves in an hour. I’ll pop down for breakfast.”

“Bodie?” he started to say, but the heavy door was already slamming shut.

Stunned, Doyle got up, pulled on his t-shirt and strolled over to the window. It was a beautiful morning, cold and sunny with a clear blue sky and there was a layer of fresh white snow. The ancient cobble-stoned square was already bustling with activity. There were market stalls everywhere and people with bags and baskets slowly walked around, chatting with the farmers who were displaying their wares. It looked very colourful and picturesque from above.

He spotted a father with his daughter making their way across the place. They had the same black hair and big, dark brown eyes. The girl looked still rather sleepy, but she was happily munching on a long, red Bratwurst. Leaning on the window sill, Doyle glanced over at the huge clock of the dome. Quarter to eight. He couldn’t help grinning. Jesus Christ, a Bratwurst at quarter to eight in the morning. Those crazy Germans.

He stood at the window for a long time, looking at the lively market, the glorious dome, the cloudless sky and the dark green mountains in the distance. It was hauntingly beautiful, and he knew he would never see it again.

With a last long look at the ancient double bed he gathered the rest of his clothes and went to the bathroom.

********

Ray Doyle wasn’t a happy man.

He had ended up in the window seat again, wearily suspecting that his partner just wanted to be as close to every passing stewardess as possible.

Breakfast had been a silent affair, and on the bus to the airport they had only exchanged a few general words during the whole one hour drive. Bodie had kept his voice casual and his face blank and unreadable.

The stewardess coming up through the aisle checking that everybody was buckled in safely was young, blonde and stunning. She stopped right beside Bodie, smiling down at him. “Is everything ok, sir? Can I give you a hand?”

“No thanks, love, I’m fine,” he replied curtly, hardly smiling back at her and closing the clasp himself.

Doyle would have been surprised had he paid any attention. Instead he sat brooding, staring gloomily out of the window while the rumbling engines vibrated under his feet. Unconsciously, he slowly ran his thumb along his lower lip. Watching scattered snow flakes dancing through the air he still felt the pressure of Bodie’s lips on his own and the warmth and texture of Bodie’s skin.

His partner had pulled the complimentary newspaper out of the seat pocket and was making a noisy job of opening it up, spreading out pages over both their laps in the process. Half annoyed, Ray started to turn to him, but froze when two things happened. The 737 gave a small lurch and started to taxi along the runway, at the same time as his hand was firmly clasped under the cover of the open newspaper.

Bodie’s warm thumb caressed his knuckles as they rapidly gathered speed, and looking up, he met deep blue eyes that were neither blank nor unreadable. They actually showed a lot, those beautiful, intense eyes.

“Ready for take-off, sunshine?” his mate asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Lacing his fingers through Bodie’s and squeezing right back, Ray Doyle nodded.

This mission might have been a failure for Cowley, but it was a turning point for his top team. They would never forget Freiburg. They would never forget Fastnacht. And what happened over those few days in Germany would stay with them forever.


End file.
